


Fragmentation

by TwinKats



Series: Shattered & Stuck [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Asgore is a silly fluff, Aster is an idiot, Gaster is Aster, Grillby is tired of this shit, Pre-Undertale, Riverperson is scary, Sans is a shit, Toriel wants everything to be ok, backstory stuff, pre-memory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-17
Updated: 2016-11-17
Packaged: 2018-08-31 12:17:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8578258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwinKats/pseuds/TwinKats
Summary: Bits and bobs of the backstory and pieces behind the mind and memory of Gaster, before he tore himself to pieces and got stuck.





	

Aster stood, hands stiff at his sides, within a sea of kinsouls. He towered above them, seven feet Boss Monster of course he towered above them, and provided a sense of comfort. Surely the great Sir Aster could protect him? Aster wanted to scoff; his right hand twitched, _burned_ , and his left wanted to ignite into purple fire. Here, in this cave, surrounded by the weaker kinsouls gathered up—and not everyone could be found, could be gathered; whole swaths of clans of Monster lost, abandoned, surely turned to dust when the Humans and the Mages discovered them—Aster merely stood another soul within a sea of thousands. 

Pinpricks of eyelights shifted off toward the hastily erected medical tent where Gerson rested a mess of half-consciousness and half-dust by this point. Aster didn’t doubt his friend would survive; Gerson’d been built of sterner stuff, after all. His gaze darted around and he could see Grillby off in the distance, half collapsed among a slew of flame elementals, probably the remnants of his clan. Aster clenched his fist tight, ignored the way it grated broken and not-quite-healed bone together. 

Rivers gathered around children without their parents. Children who sobbed and begged into their cloak. Aster glanced to them, caught white pricks in a void of black—the shadowed creature opened up a wide maw that dripped ink into a parody of a vicious sort of grin, full of disgust and self-loathing. Aster tore his gaze away. He didn’t see Sans, but he didn’t doubt that Sans found his way here too. In fact he could bet his remaining hand that Sans slept soundly in the medical tent, curled up with Gerson in an effort to forget the mess happening out here. 

Aster focused his gaze back over toward the entrance, toward the Mages and the Humans and their encampment gathered there. More than seven stood ready and willing, various focuses of various sizes alight with magic—some merely fingers and hands, some the actual clothes on their backs—and at the forefront knelt the largest Boss Monster Aster ever met. They towered, near nine feet, but here they looked weakened. Clothes mussed, dried blood and dust splattered across them and across rips and tears. Aster looked to Asgore first, the way his head slumped down and the sharp strike across his SOUL—a bearing scar he’d have for the rest of his life. Beneath his ribs, nestled safely against his sternum, Aster’s SOUL twinged. 

Asgore, large and towering Asgore, did not lend toward this pathetic beaten creature. Not the Asgore Aster knew and—he shuddered, twitched his eye sockets, and shut down that thought abruptly. Neither here nor there, in the end. Instead Aster darted his gaze toward Lady Toriel next, the woman he’d sworn his life into the service of so long ago. He’d been a bitter, broken baby bones then; he still felt like a bitter, broken baby bones now. His gaze traced her muzzle, noted each scratch and slice of damage. He saw the way her breathing labored, the way her right arm hung almost useless at her side. His gaze darted to her SOUL, and his breath hitched. 

A small, secondary, tiny—barely there, in fact—newborn SOUL rested up against hers. Aster felt bile craw up into his nonexistent throat. A child; she bore child, and given the way her left arm hugged her stomach Lady Toriel knew. Aster darted his gaze toward the Mages, the Humans, Asgore, and then back to Lady Toriel. He bounced around, tried to piece together who knew, tried to piece together the situation. It clicked quite suddenly; horror and reason dawned upon him. He noted the way the tears gathered in Lady Toriel’s eyes and the way Asgore’s head bowed. 

They weren’t going to survive the raise of the Barrier. The Humans and the Mages intended to _slaughter_ the King and Queen of All Monsters before their subjects— _slaughter_ their unborn child—and then leave the rest of them into uncertainty. Aster swallowed; his eyes met the glowing, malevolent _crimson **red**_ of the Mage who stood closest to Lady Toriel and Asgore. The Mage grinned, wide and twisted. The others began to cast. 

Aster didn’t think. He ACTed.

* * *

Rivers looked up the moment she felt the twisted churn in her old friend’s SOUL. Her shadowed mouth pulled open wide into a parody of a snarling grin, dripping ink and shadows before she twisted her head sharply in the direction of Girllby’s familiar SOUL. With barely a thought a shadow slipped from her crossed ankles even as she tightened her grip upon the children that surrounded her. 

The white pinpricks of her eyes turned sharp cyan for the briefest of moments. 

His shadow darted through the crowd until it came upon the collapsed and mostly destabilized flame Monster, surrounded by the remaining members of his clan. Rivers twisted, tugged up and around what could have been Grillby’s ankle or his hands. The flame twisted and curled back around him, and after a moment the shadow twisted up until Rivers crouched over Grillby, his face and cyan eyes alight with unholy glee. He cocked his head toward Aster, and Grillby lifted himself up a bit, took a more solid shape, and shuddered. 

The cyan lights in her eyes flicked back to white, and she snapped her head toward the medical tent. Another shadow, this one from the bottom edge of her cloak, slipped off in that direction. Her eyes light up green. This shadow took shorter to form fully into a third Rivers, coalescing right before the door and striding in with nary a thought. They swept their gaze to Gerson, who struggled to sit up a bit. They wagged their finger, hissed air from their mouths, and then turned to face out of the tent itself and peer into the crowd and wait. 

Once more green flicked back into white. Rivers let out a hissing, chuffed sort of laughter and bowed over the group of kids in her arms. She crooned sweetly at them, especially when they tensed and shivered. Children could sense the torment in another’s SOUL more keenly than most adults, Rivers knew, and right now Aster’s torment bled over the crowd of kinsouls like a burning blanket. Rivers snapped their head back around, back up, back toward Gaster. Her eyes began to glow once more, this time a burning, shuddering _crimson_. Her whole form shuddered, shook, and then stepped away. 

Rivers walked through the crowd, crimson eyes burning. Rivers weaved through the people carefully, slowly, until Rivers neared Aster. Rivers could almost touch Aster’s bony wrist, almost grasp him— _stop him_. Not that Rivers would. This; this nonsensical, burning, twisted torment from Rivers’ oldest friend needed to happen. Rivers knew this as well as Rivers knew—well. Rivers hissed a laugh, shadowed mouth of ink dripping to the world around Rivers with fury and determination, with secrets and everything that made Rivers what Rivers _is_. 

With the children Rivers eye’s twitched back to white. She rested her chin on one child’s head, focused her attention back on the hoard around her. She crooned, warbled softly and stretched herself around as many of them as she could. She’d keep them safe, keep them from harm, while the parts of her – _PATIENCE, KINDNESS, DETERMINATION_ – finished setting the stage. 

When Aster ACTed, Rivers moved too.

* * *

 _He’s bout t’do stupid_. It tickled at Grillby, that thought, and with a twitch and a shuddering sigh Grillby pulled himself together. He glanced to Rivers who hummed an agreement to the unspoken question. If they’d learned anything about their dear friend Aster, they’d learned that for all the man bled intellectualism he rarely tended to use his brain. 

 _He’s bout t’do very, very stupid_. Grillby sighed and pulled himself to his feet. He nudged the soles of his shoes into the earth of the cavern, drawing faint symbols into the ground and superheating them with his magic. Grillby didn’t excel at the highly subtle art of runes like Rivers did, but he knew enough—and knew plenty more than Gerson or even Aster—to work the magic into the earth beneath the humans notice. 

 _I’ve swearin if I’ve t’piece tha bleedin heart ofa skeleton t’gether ‘gain,_ Grillby snarled to himself and trickled a dance through the crowds. Rivers followed his example, they broke away and came together in figure eights. Occasionally Rivers would brush his wrist against Grillby’s, a subtle reminder. 

The magic Grillby and Rivers worked into the earth rose with a crescendo as the Mages began to cast. Grillby hardly noticed the moment when Aster went off, dashed through the beginnings of the Barrier with a yell and a summoned swing of a bone staff. He barely acknowledged the action with any more of a ‘ _An’ ther’s Aster of’n doin’ stupid,’_ in his thoughts. 

When Aster screamed, Grillby twitched a glance—he saw the moment the crimson Mage’s fist punch into Aster’s ribs, ripped straight through them and gaze the Boss Monster’s soul. He saw how Aster twitched and lashed out, how the blow came to his leg and then his arms. He saw how by that point Aster had his Hands in the air, tugging Toriel and Asgore insistently while he swung the bone staff. He saw how the Mage threw Aster back, how Aster hit a rock with a screech. Rivers’ wrist brushed against his and he focused back on the task of magic in the earth. 

The other Rivers had things well in hand, he caught the swell of shadow and the screeching, hissing, static laugh of the Monster as Rivers leapt into the fray. When the last of the magic Grillby and Rivers wove sunk into the earth, Grillby could hear the static _pop_ of the Barrier fully establish itself. The shockwave knocked him back, straight into the shadowed Monster who flickered and then burst apart. He could see the streaks of shadow waft through the sudden rays of _light, it burned, it stung oh **fuck**_ and crest back into Rivers proper. 

Grillby heard Aster _shriek_ , the unholy sort of scream he’d only heard come from the skeleton’s mouth once. He couldn’t see, but Grillby didn’t doubt that Aster’s other hand now lay mangled and limp, possibly tortured. Grillby heard Rivers sound out a screeching scream too, a shuddering gasp. Something struck the Barrier and it thrummed in time with the SOULS of the Monsters present. It stung and struck at them, and then all fell silent. 

Grillby staggered to his feet, tugged his form in close and twisted it until he looked less like a mess of fire and more like a person. The shockwave tossed back the majority of the kinsouls gathered, but the weaving magic saved them from the potential damage. It lit the ground in harsh figure eights, built a obvious and comforting path. It took Grilby a second to realize that Aster lay in a crumpled heap on the ground, Rivers tentatively hovered over him. He could see how Rivers third twitched, and then cast his gaze toward Toriel and Asgore who crumpled together from where Aster threw them. Toriel groaned and huffed and got to her feet while Grillby sent out a careful, pulse of his flame through the crowd. He filtered out the haze of the kinsouls and _focused_ on the SOULS he needed to see. 

A stuttered start to his fire belayed his only surprise at the situation at hand. His gaze darted to Toriel who gasped, then screamed. 

“SIR ASTER!” 

Grillby watched Asgore get to his feet, watched the other Boss Monster totter after his wife dazed. He saw Rivers finally disperse back to Rivers, saw her grinning, twisted, broken sort of smile. Grillby gave her a nod, she gave it back, and then ushered the children away. Grillby danced around and through the crowds; he kept half his attention on Toriel and Asgore and Aster—a part of Grillby wanted to sigh tiredly when he saw the green magic nearly eclipse Toriel’s form. 

No doubt while she and Asgore hurried stabilized the foolish Monster, Rivers gathered together healers in the tent. Grillby picked around, waited until he could see Asgore scoop up a slightly more stable Aster—dust still trailed from fingertips and the man’s eye lights were thin, hazed, and blinked on and off intermittently. With a huff Grillby knelt on the ground, searched with his flame, until he came upon the barely there beginnings of the little SOUL. 

“Child,” Grillby huffed. “Ye gon’ be bad as ye da.” 

Carefully Grillby scooped up the still forming SOUL, still forming infant, and made a slow way back toward the medical tent, toward Aster, Asgore, Toriel, and all of his friends.

* * *

Several exhausting days passed where Grillby worked tirelessly with Toriel and other healers to pull Aster back from the brink of death. He handed the small, forming child over to Rivers for initial care, and they handed the child eventually over to Sans while the others worked. Sans hung out around Gerson when awake, trembling and terrified the moment he saw Aster brought in half-dust and half-broken bones. 

After those several days Grillby took care of the child again, and also care of Sans. It took about a week more, by which the little baby bones finally finished his formation and let the world know it with a loud screeching cry, before Aster even woke up fully conscious with no recollection of the days that passed since the Barrier erected. When Aster finally glanced around tiredly, eye lights dim but aware and focused, Grillby leaned over and settled the child into his arms. 

Aster stared, scratched out a hoarse, “What?” and Grillby sighed. 

“Nex’time ye wannae go’n bleed magic’n bone ‘verywhere,” Grillby said slowly, “I’ve not gonnae patch ye up.” 

“What?” Aster asked. 

“This.” Grillby waved at the kid. 

“I…don’t follow.” 

Grillby tugged a hand down his face, twisted, and snapped, “Ye kid, ye responsibility. Parenthood, _Aster_ , deal with it.” 

Without a word Grillby got up and walked away why Aster stared after him, mouth agape, and a faintly squeaked, “What?”

* * *

Aster had eyes, and a very good knowledge of SOULs, so when Grillby first planted Papyrus into his arms and told him to deal with parenthood, the connection didn’t escape him. He understood on an intellectual level that obviously this small baby bones happened to be his. He understood that his magic got away from him, took his hurts, and decided obviously he meant to have a kid in the worst way possible. His magic always did weird things like that, almost like it thought and felt for itself. 

Lady Toriel, when she saw the child in his arms, giggled in a pleased way. She started to talk to him about her own expectations of motherhood and child rearing and Aster’s mind tumbled down some very strange pathways for a while. Still, he took to suddenly having a baby with great aplomb, and Sans helped him out in the same way that Sans helped him out ever since he found the boy in the middle of a massacre. 

Slowly a year passed, Lady Toriel gave birth to little Asriel; Rivers teased him and berated him in equal measure and Gerson would look at him, snort, and tell him good luck with this sort of grin. Grillby rarely spoke to him on his own merit unless to deride Aster’s less then stellar parenting skills. Aster would be the first to admit he might’ve abused Grillby’s extensive knowledge a little too much, and quite quickly the flame elemental and his good friend got a bit sick of it. 

They all got a bit sick of it, stuck in _Home_ as Asgore called it. Monsters weren’t meant to be stuck in small spaces together, inevitably something broke along the way somewhere. It took a year but soon Monsters began to branch out and explore the cave system, step past the bounds of Home and into the world. With them Grillby left first, at the behest of Lady Toriel and Asgore, and due to his own desire to escape the enclosed confines that quickly became the norm. 

Later, once Grillby settled into the snowy province just outside of Home, Aster finally made the connection that’d nagged in the back of his mind for so long. He’d taken to dragging Sans and little Papyrus to Grillby’s roughshod homestead that worked both as a midway point for exploring Monsters and as a resting place while things settled down. Grillby sold items of interest to keep people safe, cooked some food here and there, and offered space for when Monsters needed rest. 

Aster settled in one of the broken, half carved chairs that Grillby fashioned in the seating area. He fed Papyrus silently and kept one eye on Sans who toyed with bone constructed puzzles with a single focused intensity. He glanced down at Papyrus and smiled, and then cast his mind inward toward the connection to his SOUL. 

Two wonderful tethers, two wonderful lights, two _wonderful sons_. Aster blinked. He counted the connection, the threads of his magic he carefully held tied to the children, the marks of his lifespan slowly ticked down while a baby Boss Monster grew and age and became stronger. _Two threads_. There were _two_. Aster glanced to Papyrus, and then followed the mental thread and stared at Sans. 

It took a second longer but then the niggling feeling turned into a sort of light bulb of thought and Aster stiffened straight. He didn’t see the way Grillby looked at him, but he stared at Sans with wonder and horror. 

“I.” 

“Ye’ve noticed then?” Grillby drawled. 

“ _I HAVE TWO SONS!?_ ” Aster shrieked. “Oh my _fuck_ I’ve got two—what the _fuck_ Grillby! Sans is my— _when the fuck did that happen!?_ I don’t even, how could I have—” Aster trembled, his mind tumbled away. He didn’t know what to think, what to do, what to say. How could he apologize to Sans for all this time of not being there, not knowing— _gods_ no wonder the boy stood so short and so broken, that connection severed the way it’d been. 

“You know, dad, been wondering when you’d pick that one up,” Sans said through a wide grin and carefully plucked Papyrus out of Aster’s fingers. “No swearing ‘round the baby.” 

“I.” Aster blinked. “Sans?” 

“Yeah, ‘m here, Dings,” Sans continued as if he’d not just called Aster dad a second ago. “Your _right hand man_ an’ all that.” Sans winked. 

His right hand—his. 

Aster hissed. “Oh _shit_.” 

Grillby just laughed.


End file.
